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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980687">eventually you'll see</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber'>Slumber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inarizaki!Atsumu, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>There is no way out of this. Atsumu's in line for a postgame meet-and-greet like one of those idol fans, only it's for volleyball players so is that worse? better?, clutching a HINATA 21 jersey so it could get signed. He'd hesitated, ya know? Thought maybe, oh, what if he'd picked Iizuna's jersey instead, he's on the team and actually a setter, even, wouldn't that have made more sense? </p>
</blockquote><br/>In which high schooler Atsumu develops a crush on pro volleyball player Hinata.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AtsuHina Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>eventually you'll see</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisabesuFic/gifts">Erisabesu (ErisabesuFic)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From your last prompt, age gap AU, which sorta took me by the throat and wouldn't let go. I hope you like this! Thank you so much for everything you guys did for the AtsuHina Exchange! ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They're in Rio because their uncle works for the Japanese National Team, scores them a few free tickets, and lets them bunk with him in his hotel room. They're in Rio because their parents work very hard at their day jobs to afford the rest—plane tickets and pocket money, mostly—and they believe in giving their boys the chances they could in the pursuit of their dreams. They're in Rio because it's the Summer Games, they're in their first year of high school, and Miya Atsumu wants to watch Kageyama Tobio light the world on fire.</p><p>"Four service aces in a row, 'Samu!" Atsumu's all but vibrating in their seat after Japan's first match against Poland. It wasn't the five against France from the last World Tournament a few years ago, when Kageyama debuted on the world stage, and it had ended in a loss, ultimately—they don't think Japan's going to end up advancing past the preliminaries—but they'd seen it <em>live</em> and in person! Even if it was from all the way in the nosebleeds. "And he only has one kinda serve. Betcha if I developed my floater I could—"</p><p>"M'hungry," Osamu says, scratching his head as they exit the stadium. </p><p>"Uh, wanna grab some—"</p><p>"I want real food," Osamu tells him, grumpier than Atsumu's seen him since they landed. He really turns into a jerk when he's hangry. "We've gone through the same okay food from the cafeterias they have onsite here and I wanna try actual Brazilian food this time."</p><p>"Uncle said we can't go too far from the hotel though, and he's not gonna be back until later."</p><p>Osamu shrugs. "Let's order something in, then, I don't care, as long as it's not what we've had for the last two days."</p><p>Atsumu concedes, picking up the list of delivery menus they got piled up on the table, letting Osamu make the decision. Luckily they can order online, so they don't have to navigate having to talk to anyone in English or Portuguese, because neither of them are very good at either, and manage to figure out which items to pick out thanks to the pictures on the site.</p><p>"Can ya double-check that price is right?" Atsumu asks Osamu, going through the bills of reals in his wallet. They've only been here a couple of days—the conversions don't come naturally to him yet.</p><p>"Yeah, sounds about right," Osamu says, so Atsumu places their order.</p><p>Osamu's turned the TV on to tune in to the other game happening that day by the time Atsumu's done, lying back on the bed they're sharing. Atsumu crawls over to sit next to him and stretches out, the grumble in his stomach telling him yeah, they probably made the right call getting food now. </p><p>"Hey," Atsumu says during a break between sets.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"When I play for Japan, I'm gonna score <em>seven</em> service aces in a row against—against Brazil!"</p><p>Osamu yawns. "With yer jump serve or this floater ya haven't even tried out yet?"</p><p>Atsumu scrunches up his nose. "Maybe a mix of both." He grins. "They'll never know which one ta expect, that's how I'm gonna get 'em!"</p><p>"Okay, 'Tsumu." </p><p>"How many do ya think ya'll ge—" Atsumu starts to ask, but then the buzzer to their hotel room rings, and he jumps up to answer it. </p><p>"Uhhhhh, olá," he says, blinking at the delivery guy who shows up at their door. He's shorter than him, with flaming orange hair and bright hazel eyes, tanned and broad around the shoulders, and he kinda looks—but they're in Brazil, how many Japanese people would— </p><p>The delivery guy blinks back. Takes in the Inarizaki High shirt Atsumu's wearing, and a wide grin breaks out on his face. "Are you Japanese?" he asks, barely letting Atsumu nod before he's launching into a whole excitable spiel that feels distinctly <em>un</em>Japanese. "Where from? Are you guys here for the Olympics? Just tourists?"</p><p>"Yes, uh—Hyougo, yeah, we're watching volleyball."</p><p>"Oh! I knew your school shirt sounded familiar, that's awesome, I'm from Miyagi originally," he says. "Do you guys play too?"</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"You look like volleyball players."</p><p>"Oh! Yeah, we—I set," Atsumu says, pointing to himself before he points to Osamu, who'd gotten curious enough to come see who was talking Atsumu's ear off, "he spikes."</p><p>The delivery guy nods. "You're twins!" he declares, absolutely uselessly, but his smile doesn't waver. "That must be so cool, huh? I play too, I wanna be a wing spiker, but right now I'm here for beach training—oh! Sorry! I almost forgot your food—"</p><p>"No problem," Atsumu says, watching the guy pull up the food and taking it from him. He counts out the money for it and hands it over, and that should be that, but this is the most he's spoken to anyone besides family in the last couple of days, so he can't resist asking more: "You do beach volleyball or indoor?"</p><p>"Both, technically. I—I'm doing beach volleyball training right now so I can be better at indoor," he says, grinning. He doesn't look pissed off at the small talk, at least. "I'm Hinata, by the way!"</p><p>"Miya Atsumu, and that's my brother Osamu," Atsumu says. "Ya went all the way to Brazil to train? In <em>beach </em>volleyball?"</p><p>Hinata shrugs. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, right?" he says. "And hey, it's harder than it looks!"</p><p>"Ya any good?"</p><p>Hinata laughs out loud. "I'm trying to be," he says, but his eyes blaze with a spark that catches Atsumu off-guard. This guy means business.</p><p>"Where's there to play around here?" Atsumu asks, suddenly realizing maybe he could be doing more than the morning runs he's been doing, while they're on vacation. </p><p>"Umm, well, there's a couple gyms nearby," Hinata says, pulling out a notebook and pen and jotting down a couple of places. "But you're probably gonna have a little trouble if you just show up unannounced. The beaches are always free if you wanna get in a little play there, there's two of you anyway and as long as a court is open you can ask anyone to play against you. Here, I'll write down what you can tell them."</p><p>"Oh, thanks," Atsumu says, glancing over at Osamu, who's eyeing the bag of food with more interest. Atsumu lets him take it over to the table. "Ya play at the beach?"</p><p>"Yep, I'm usually there every night."</p><p>Atsumu raises an eyebrow. "If we find ya, ya'll play with us?"</p><p>Hinata laughs. "If you find me." </p><p>It sounds like a promise.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Is this yer version of trying to act cool?" Osamu asks next to him. Atsumu doesn't have to look to see the smirk on his brother's face, which is an ugly look for him, <em>for the record</em>. He's got his arms crossed and the bored tone on his voice is so grating, Atsumu almost regrets making him come with.</p><p>"M'not tryna act like anything," he mumbles, blatantly lying. There is no way out of this. He's in line for a postgame meet-and-greet like one of those idol fans, only it's for volleyball players so is that worse? better?, clutching a HINATA 21 jersey so it could get signed. He'd hesitated, ya know? Thought maybe, oh, what if he'd picked Iizuna's jersey instead, he's on the team and actually a setter, even, wouldn't that have made more sense? </p><p>But Iizuna's just <em>fine</em>, and it would have been a waste of his parents' hard-earned money to spend it on a jersey for a player he doesn't actually care for. He barely paid attention to Iizuna's career and the MSBY Black Jackals' rotating setter position means he's probably only there for like one more year before he had to go anyway, and besides— </p><p>Besides.</p><p>He tries not to look like he's looking, but he's absolutely peeking around the row of ten noisy brats ahead of them in line, past them to the narrow table at the end, where a couple of the Jackals players are seated, Sharpies on hand and smiles in place, signing posters and jerseys and chatting with their fans. There's the usual fan favorites—Bokuto, who's like the number one jersey seller or something, and Meian, who's basically the face of the team having been captain for so long—but sandwiched between Bokuto and Sakusa, Atsumu catches glimpses of fireball orange, a little shorter than the others but no less brighter, no less popular with the kids. </p><p>Hinata Shouyou is the team's newest addition to the team, having debuted in the Jackals' first match against the Adlers a couple weeks ago in Sendai. Small for a spiker, but boy can he fly. Atsumu remembers catching the match after practice and grabbing Osamu's arm too tight.</p><p>"It's Ninja Shouyou!" he'd shrieked.</p><p>And they'd been Jackals fans for life, okay? When they were younger their parents took them to see the games whenever they were in Osaka, or even Hirakata, and Atsumu could still recite the rosters from those early years. The Jackals were <em>why</em> he and Osamu were even even interested in volleyball in the first place. </p><p>But as he played the game himself, his focus turned to his own elementary, middle school, high school teams. The tournaments he started paying attention to were the Nationals, not the V.League championships. Yeah he'd watch a game if he caught it, and he'd heard a lot of the monster generation when they were all making their debuts in the V.League so he paid closer attention then, but he didn't track rosters as closely as he used to.</p><p>So when he saw that flash of orange, that streak of boundless energy running across his screen, the movements tiny but all too familiar, because he'd <em>seen</em> him move like that, in person, all the way on the other side of the world—</p><p>Yeah, he shrieked. Give him a break.</p><p>Osamu hadn't let him live it down since, the teasing only growing exponentially when Atsumu, who devoted too much of his life to volleyball to have any extra pocket money from a part-time job, asked their parents for a specific Jackals jersey for Christmas. </p><p>Osamu elbows him on his side now, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. "Quit fidgetin'," he scolds him. "Ya actually nervous or somethin'?"</p><p>"<em>No</em>," Atsumu denies, scowling. What is there to be nervous about? He just wants to show up, get his jersey signed, tell Hinata nice job for making it here, like he'd told Atsumu and Osamu he would, and maybe— "Ya think he remembers us, 'Samu?"</p><p>Osamu snorts. "Oh my <em>god</em>, yer worse than when our classmates are tryna work up the nerve to confess on Valentines' Day," he says, yelping when Atsumu smacks him on the head. "What?"</p><p>"M'not—m'not doing <em>that</em> either!" Atsumu hisses. He's not! Hinata's just—Hinata's just a guy they know, who they played beach volleyball with once upon a time. Who is now on the Jackals, which is <em>so close </em>to where Atsumu lives, so why <em>shouldn't</em> they go say hi? That was all. They're just saying hi. </p><p>They did find him on the beach, back then. For a couple of nights during the week they stayed there, actually. They found him and played with him, Atsumu and Osamu against Hinata and his partner, Heitor, where Hinata showed on the court everything he was holding back saying while Atsumu was talking him down and asking him whether he was any good, or why he'd even think to play beach volleyball.</p><p>Which is to say, he <em>kicked</em> Atsumu and Osamu's collective asses.</p><p>And Atsumu's been a fan since. (And maybe, a voice that sounds a little bit like his good-for-nothing brother adds, he's been a little bit in love since, too.)</p><p>"Oh!" Hinata says, blinking bright eyes up at Atsumu—when did they get to the front of the line, exactly?—and beaming. "It's Atsumu-kun and Osamu-kun! You guys are here!"</p><p>"Could say the same for ya, actually," Osamu says, smooth and casual, taking all the cool vibes Atsumu wishes he had. "Congrats on making it here. This one here—" Osamu pokes Atsumu on the side— "insisted we tell ya that."</p><p>"Told you guys I would," Hinata says, his face just completely lighting up. "Thank you, both of you. Is that—Atsumu-kun, do you want me to sign that for you?"</p><p>"This—yes, uh—here—" Atsumu finds himself suddenly unable to string a coherent sentence together, but he does hand the jersey over, gripping onto it instinctively when Hinata tries to flatten it out so he can, you know, actually <em>sign</em> it, and then letting go. "Sorry, I—good game. You played good."</p><p><em>Oh my god, get it</em> <em>together</em>, Osamu doesn't say, but Atsumu can just about hear him thinking it in his direction. </p><p>He turns to look. <em>Help</em>, he screams internally.</p><p>"Thanks, I hope you guys continue to support us! How's your volleyball team doing?"</p><p>"We're strong enough to win Nationals!" Atsumu says, finally finding his words. "We'll win it all. We will."</p><p>Hinata smiles. "Yeah?"</p><p>And before Atsumu can think too deeply about it: "You should come see us play," he says. "If you have time, I mean! We'll show you what kinda team we are."</p><p>"Okay, Atsumu-kun," Hinata says, and it doesn't sound like empty words when he smiles the way he does. "If I have time I'll try to make it."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Atsumu doesn't want to say he took Hinata's words for a promise—he's aware of the V.League schedule, the life of a professional athlete, that when you get to a certain stage in your career high school just becomes more of a footnote, and who needs those kinds of memories by then? </p><p>So he doesn't have any expectations when Inarizaki goes to the Spring Interhigh in their second year, just a few weeks after that meet-and-greet. The Jackals have games, anyway, even if they happen to be in Tokyo too. Not that Atsumu checks the schedule. </p><p>He doesn't have any expectations over the Interhigh a few months later, even knowing it's the off-season for the V.League and anyone could, were they in town, come over and watch. </p><p>He has hopes, maybe, but certainly no expectations.</p><p>And because he has no expectations, nothing is crushed when both tournaments come and go and he sees no flash of orange, no dazzling smile in the stands at either time.</p><p>He's not crushed. No he isn't.</p><p>By the time his last high school tournament rolls around, it's out of his mind. It's the last time he'll ever really play with 'Samu, then they're on their own, so he wants to make sure—he doesn't know how within reach winning it all is, but—he doesn't want to have any regrets with how they play. </p><p>So he's focused and he's on fire, he's feeling really good about his game play, and Osamu for the first time in a long while wears that same gleam of resolve in his eyes. </p><p>Atsumu grins.</p><p>They're going to be unstoppable.</p><p>They lay it all out on the line and play their hearts out. No regrets, Atsumu thinks, getting into the timing, the position, the angle of a toss that has Osamu taking to the air before Atsumu's toss finds him, before he slams it home for the final, winning point.</p><p>Later, after the celebrating and screaming, sweaty arms around his shoulders and Osamu hoarsely yelling "Six service aces in a row!" in his ears, and that's close enough for now, ain't it?—  </p><p>Later, after Atsumu has most assuredly <em>not</em> sobbed into his shirt sleeve or wiped his snotty face against his brother's jersey— </p><p>Later, after the ceremonies and awards and team pictures, when they've showered and grabbed their things and are making their way to the team bus— </p><p>Atsumu's coach calls him over.</p><p>"Got someone here to see you," he says, the usual stoic look replaced with something that looks almost like fatherly pride. Atsumu feels the warmth surging back in his chest again, the heat prickling at the back of his eyes. </p><p>"Yes, Coach?" He turns to look at the gentleman beside his coach. He's roughly the same age, with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses, looking more distinguished in a suit compared to his coach's varsity jacket and sweatpants. </p><p>"Haruta Takeshi," he says by way of introduction, offering Atsumu his business card.</p><p>It takes a while for the characters to register, the gleam of embossed gold on black looking a little surreal in Atsumu's hand. </p><p>"You're a scout for the Black Jackals," Atsumu says, completely forgetting his manners. He catches the look his coach gives him so he bows, belatedly, and mumbles his thanks. "I—is there anything I can do for you?"</p><p>"You played very well today," Haruta tells him. "We're always keeping an eye out for young talent, but admittedly, we've been paying special attention to you in the last couple of tournaments."</p><p>"You have?" Atsumu asks.</p><p>"I gave them an insider tip," someone says from behind him. Atsumu whirls around to find Hinata there, dressed in casual clothes, his wild fluff of orange hair wrangled beneath a baseball cap and the lower half of his face obscured by a face mask, which he pulls down to flash Atsumu a big smile. "Your team plays really well! You guys are a lot of fun to watch."</p><p>"You're here."</p><p>"I'm here." Hinata's smile turns sheepish. "Couldn't make it before, so I'm sorry about that! But I told Haruta-san here to make sure to watch your games. And… wasn't I right, Haruta-san?"</p><p>"You were correct, Hinata." Haruta turns to Atsumu. "We've been very impressed with your play. Have you thought about your plans after high school? The Jackals have been looking for a setter like you, and we want to invite you to our tryouts this spring."</p><p>"And I'll get to play with you?" Atsumu asks Hinata.</p><p>"Ah, well—" </p><p>"That's a very generous offer, Haruta-san," Atsumu's coach says for him, glaring at Atsumu for his severe manner deficiency. </p><p>But Atsumu's too busy worrying over the way Hinata winces at that question. "Aren't you on the team?" he asks. "<em>Would</em> I be playing with you, or—"</p><p>"This is my last season on the Jackals," Hinata says, scratching the back of his head. He does look genuinely sorry, but that's little consolation to Atsumu at that moment, who feels something like a twisting in his gut, a crash of disappointment weighing heavy on his stomach. "Asas São Paulo offered me a spot for next season. I'm headed back to Brazil after this one's over. But the Jackals are gonna be a really strong team, and you're going to—"</p><p>"When are ya coming back?" Atsumu asks, switching tack. Wasn't that—that was part of the <em>point, </em>he can't help thinking petulantly<em>.</em> "<em>Are</em> ya coming back?"</p><p>"I don't know," Hinata admits, glancing at Haruta, who just shrugs. "I mean, it's not out of the question, but—"</p><p>"Fine, it doesn't matter, I'll make it to Brazil then," Atsumu decides. "I'll go to the Jackals tryouts, then I'll make starting setter on the team. We'll defend the championship, Haruta-san. Then I'll make it to Brazil. And Hinata-san—"</p><p>"Atsumu-kun?"</p><p>"When I do, I'm gonna be setting for ya."</p><p>Hinata blinks. "Okay," he says, his lips curving up into a smile that reaches even the hazel of his eyes. "But don't make me wait too long."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading this! I'd love to know if you liked it via kudos/comments? And if you liked what you've read, you can <a href="https://twitter.com/slumberish/status/1319329141179797504">share the tweet here</a> and/or check out the handful of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/works?fandom_id=758208">other Haikyuu!! fics</a>, including other AtsuHinas, that I've written.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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